


It's A Good Thing That Didn't Happen

by hey_malarkey



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Companion AU, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Portal Stan, Stancest - Freeform, alien gladiators au, drunk ford is uhh, portal ford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_malarkey/pseuds/hey_malarkey
Summary: Ford has always been a little too reckless when it mattered less, but this time, trying the strange purple alcohol had effects that could have ruined everything for Helmet and Ford.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines, Helmet & Ford Pines
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	It's A Good Thing That Didn't Happen

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off extensive talks in the stancest server about the alien arena au where a portal stan hides his identity upon realizing a portal ford has also been thrown into the arena, and becomes a companion to that Ford. A protector and friend, and it drives Ford up a wall that "Helmet" as he has been dubbed will show his face to others in the arena, but not him, but he still recognizes that they're the only two humans around, and that Helmet is a good friend regardless. 
> 
> Also as a side note- Stan has gone by "Helmet" so long at this point, he tends to think of himself as Helmet too. It's becoming who he is more than he ever expected.

Ford offered to try the local drink first. He always did. For one, it was a pain in the ass to remove part of his helmet just to drink. For another, Ford had no fear of alien bullshit messing with his systems. Apparently he’d gotten a pretty good general inoculator a while back. Did fucking wonders on his constitution.

No campsite tonight, either. More like a motel. One bed, but it’s not like they haven’t had way worse. Ford took a sip, then suddenly downed it in one go. Stan swatted his arm in annoyance.

“What?” Ford asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I took a cautious first sip. It was good. A little tangy, but not bad.”

Stan rolled his eyes—which Ford couldn’t see—and shook his head—which Ford could.

“Don’t worry, Friend, it’s not going to hurt anything. It’s just a couple drinks.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

Ford had two more glasses, while Stan just watched.

It kicked in immediately after the third Ford drank. Whatever side effects had been lagging suddenly sprang on him at full force. Ford was a lot looser with his lips, a lot touchier, and very, very honest.

He sat down next to Stan on the side of the mattress, leaning into him, arm around his shoulders.

“Holy Tesla, Friend, you’re the best, you know? Sometimes it feels like I’ve known you for  _ years _ , it’s crazy!”

Stan shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t push Ford off yet.

“No, no, I’m serious. Wanna know something a little crazy? It’s a secret.”

Stan turned to look down at where Ford hung off him. He nodded and Ford grinned. Ford leaned close to whisper in what was assumed to be his ear. [It was a stage whisper. Ford was too far gone to realize he didn’t actually lower his voice at all, or need to get closer. That didn’t stop him from taking his free hand to steady himself on Stan's thigh, though.]

“Sometimes you remind me of my brother, ha!”

Stan's body locked up, completely thrown off by the admission.

“Only he could make me so mad and then make me start laughing so hard the next moment.” Ford giggled and started kneading the hand he held to Stan’s leg. He burrowed closer to Stan’s body and kept talking.

“Wanna know something even crazier than that, Companion?” Ford didn’t wait for an answer that time. “Despite thinking of you like Stan sometimes, I’m still extremely attracted to you. I still want to push you down and tear off that helmet and fucking kiss you into next week.” Ford’s hands started roving, rubbing Stan. He twisted his body so he was fully seated on Stan’s lap, chest to chest, pushing Stan down by the shoulders and mouthing at his neck as he kept talking.

For a moment Stan was too shocked to move. He could barely breathe. Ford just kept dropping bombshells on him. He came to his senses as he felt Ford push him completely to the bed, knees framing his hips and holding his wrists tightly. Stan tried to wriggle out of the grasp but he was overpowered. Did that drink make Ford stronger?

“I wanna-w-wanna let you fuck me into next month. Wanna fuck you like Lizard Bro never could. Never wanna le-leave you behind, we can travel the multiverse together until I beat Bill. Then we can-w-we can fucking, you can keep the helmet off, I can stop running, we can ride into the sunset on a boat…”

Stan let out a low moan. He couldn’t help it. It was everything he wanted from life. Together with his brother…some version of his brother, forever… and the way Ford was kissing just under his helmet in between every few words, hungrily, almost lovingly, despite the rapidly slurring speech.

Finally Ford trailed off, his scratchy voice turning into rumbling snores, no longer holding Stan down, just passed out on top of him. He started drooling on Stan’s neck.

Stan didn’t take this chance to shove Ford off. He let the man stay there until he fell asleep as well. He was too exhausted and reeling from everything his  _ brother-not-brother _ had just said to and about him. It was too much.

He didn’t even feel the vindication at knowing Ford should never have had that purple juice. He just felt an empty, lonely place in his heart grow larger as he laid there. His last thought before falling into sleep was whether or not things would be better if he just bit the bullet and took off his helmet in the morning.

-

In the morning Ford woke up, eyes bleary, shifting and hearing something beneath him let out a small huff. He turns his head and hears a small  _ thud _ as it clangs against metal. He sits up, rubbing his head, and realizes it was just banged against his friend’s helmet. His friend that he was currently  _ sitting on _ , in a very, ah, intimate manner.

He rolled off so fast he nearly fell to the floor. He caught himself with a low yelp, just barely staying on the bed. But it jiggled the mattress enough that his friend woke up, and Companion started stretching, before turning to look at him.

Companion tilted his head and crossed his arms, waiting.

Ford didn’t remember very clearly what happened last night. He recalled having the third drink, then things went a bit hazy… and then he woke up this morning on top of his Friend’s chest. He cleared his throat and sat back against the wall, trying to look put together.

“Well. At the very least, I got a full night’s sleep. How would you say the properties of the drink affected me? I must admit, my memories are very hazy, everything after the third cup is basically a blank space.”

Ford fiddled with his extra fingers as he spoke, nervous. He didn’t know why that was the position they woke up in, but he hoped Helmet would be able to clarify that situation. Ever since his friend had rebuffed his initial attempt at being intimate post-escape, he had been a bit antsy in regards to touch.

Helmet continued staring at him until finally he unfolded his arms. He stood, punched Ford in the shoulder—hard, but not enough to hurt more than the initial impact—and then gave a thumbs up. Then Helmet walked over to the bathroom and took a piss, completely ignoring him.

Well.

No matter what had happened last night, at least the worst that it could be would not be enough to break up their partnership.

Ford was desperately grateful that didn’t happen.

\- 

-

-

(Months later, post reveal, Stan repeats everything Ford had said that night of the Purple Alien Alcohol back to him, kissing up his neck and across his jaw. Looking him in the eye as he related Ford’s grand plans for the future. Ford blushes but leans his head back as Stan continues pouring all his love over him. It would have been disastrous, back then, for Stan to reveal himself. Neither would have been prepared. And the circumstances of Stan’s helmet removal had not been ideal, either, but better timed.

All in all, they were both talking over each other as impassioned kisses were shared, as hands roamed further across the other’s body, as the heat between them grew. Everything could have been ruined by that one feverish night Ford wanted, when he was physically stronger than Stan, could have ripped off his helmet and had him as he spoke, fallen asleep and left Stan feeling used, and wake up never remembering a moment of it. It was close, they didn’t know what else the drink did to alter Ford, that night. They could have lost it all, far too soon.

They both agreed to let that night go as they continued their love-making.

To them, it was just a good thing that didn’t happen.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I personally love this au so much and keep getting halfway through an idea before I stop writing it. I'll just go back and re-read the convos for inspiration I guess, haha.


End file.
